It's Gonna Hurt All Over
by Strugglingwriter94
Summary: Meg Blanchard has a tragic backstory, almost as tragic as the man she meets on the streets. But can she help this man with no memory? This go fairly well, until she is taken down a road she's never thought possible.
1. Chapter 1- The Strange Man

I was on my way home when he found me. Totally engrossed by Taylor Swift singing me through the day, I didn't see him at first. As I unplugged my earphones, I saw a man walking briskly towards me, pushing people out of his way. He was wearing a plain black jacket with the collar flipped up and a cap pulled low over his face. As he passed, an arm jutted out like a snake and caught my arm in a strong grip - an inhumanly strong grip.

"Come with me," he muttered. Surprised, I made a split decision to follow him into a dark, vacant alley. He turned to face me and, checking that no one was around to eavesdrop, pulled off his cap so I could see his face. He had the look of someone who had once been handsome and been mistreated to have uncharacteristic sunken and hollow features. Shoulder length dark brown hair framed his sallow face. Dark blue eyes, almost grey, filled with sorrow and heart-break, were deep set along a strong jawline with a month's worth of stubble grown along it.

"Wh-Who are you?" I stammered. Something about those eyes, so reckless and frightened, put me on edge. He ignored my question.

"You're Meg Blanchard." How did this strange man know who I was? And what did he want with me?

"Yes," I said after a moment. "Did you want something?" He seemed more than edgy; he was scared. As a therapist, you tend to pick up on these things.

"I need your help. You're the big therapist, right? The one who everyone talks about?" Everyone? Not likely. I was just a kid with no background and half an education trying to make enough to make ends meet, put food on the table, or have clothes on my back. The only reason I had this job was because... Well, never mind.

"Um, I'm not sure I'm 'that big therapist' as you say. But if you want an appointment, call Anita, she'll make a time you can come in-"

"No." Startled, I broke off. "Look, I don't have time to explain, and, quite frankly, don't know enough to explain," he continued. "They're after me, and if we don't get on the move, they'll catch us." As if on cue, a gunshot shattered the busy chatter of Broadway, New York. The man sprang into action, grabbing me by the waist and forcing me behind the nearest garbage can. "Stay here," he commanded, and with that he sprinted into the busy street, disappearing from my view. Shaking, I emerged slowly from my hiding spot. I saw the man in a fierce battle against a strong, athletic looking figure holding a .22 a little too carelessly for my comfort. As they clashed, the pedestrians screamed and ran here and there, all the while becoming more and more prone to be hit by one of the flying bullets. I darted out from my trash can hiding spot and began pushing people out of the line of fire.

The two men were still interlocked in combat, the new figure slowly overpowering the other. Making sure the pedestrians were safely out of range, I raced towards them to try and help, but even as I reached them, I was struck by something hard across the back of my head. The blow was so hard I began to lose consciousness. The last thing I saw before black was a glint of metal where the sorrowful looking man's arm should have been.

When I woke up, I was back in the alley where the strange man had first spoken to me. I sat up slowly. Geez, my head hurt. I nearly jumped when I spotted the broken form of the man with the gun crumpled in a corner.

"Good, you're awake. Now you can see why we need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

I jumped again, unaware the scared man was still there.

"Did-did you do that to him?" I croaked. My throat was dry and it hurt to talk. I was scared and tired, and I was starting to wonder why I was still here, in the cold street, rather than my warm apartment on the Upper East Side. "Actually, it doesn't matter. I need to go, I have things to do..." I trailed off at the look on his face.

He resembled a lost puppy that had been kicked too many times and thrown out into the cold to fend for himself, while at the same time so self-disgusted I even felt pity for him. Then I checked myself, because he didn't seem the type to appreciate pity. He sighed.

"I-I guess you think I'm some sort of monster, huh? That I'm a twisted, awful human being, but I doubt there's more human than machine in here," he murmured, pointing at his chest. I didn't say anything. "This is why I need your help. I guess I lost my memory, because I can't remember anything except from a month ago. Then I'll have these... These episodes, where I'll get triggered and black out, and when I wake up, something horrible has happened," he finished, crouching next to the man who was still laying in a silent, still heap. His voice had been getting quieter and quieter with everything he said, until it was just above a whisper. "Usually, I've done the horrible thing." I was terribly confused. How was I supposed to help a potentially psychotic maniac who'd lost his memory?

I finally contented myself with repeating a simple question: "Who are you? I mean, what is your name, if you can remember?"

He seemed to think for a minute, then stood up and said, "Bucky."


	2. Chapter 2- Stark Tower

"Ok. Bucky. How'd you remember that?" I asked timidly. I didn't want to upset him again.

"About a month ago, a man called me Bucky... It felt right. It was a euphoria. I-" he stopped suddenly. He swallowed and shut his eyes tightly. When he spoke again his voice cracked slightly. "I escaped from God knows where they were keeping me and took refuge in the Smithsonian for as long as I could. This is the crazy part. There was a memorial there from the 1940s. One that read 'James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, WWII hero.' It was about me," he sounded dumbfounded. "It said I was born in 1917, and that I died in 1945." I gaped at him. That was impossible, unfathomable. Except...

"Like Captain America. You... You're Bucky Barnes?" He looked so sad it almost broke my heart.

"I can't remember."

"And you need my help to remember," I said slowly. He merely nodded. "Well, maybe there's someone else who can help us."

"You'll help?" He sounded almost hopeful.

I simply stood up and gestured for him to follow while the crumpled man in the corner began to stir.

"Leave him," Bucky grunted. I obeyed and led him into the now deserted street as police sirens started up.

"We really don't need to be here when the fuzz shows," I called over the ever growing sound of the sirens. Bucky silently ducked into another alley and led me behind the apartments and stores in a weaving trail through New York. When he thought it was safe, we ventured back into the main street. We were now in a crowded area around Times Square headed north. We hadn't said a word to each other since the sirens had faded, but I decided to now fill him in on who we were going to see.

"Ok, so we're going to see Tony Stark. The billionaire," I added at the confused look on his face. Suddenly, he doubled over, gasping for breath. Then he rolled onto his back, contracting in silent raptures. It was the most horrifying thing I'd ever seen. People began to gather around us as I shook his shoulders, trying in vain to wake him from the awful trance he seemed to be under. He slowly regained consciousness while I ushered people away, saying he needed air. He then lay on his back, seemingly exhausted and confused.

"What was that all about?" I asked, shaking.

"I just remembered something, I think. It's kind of hazy. Not here," he gasped, looking around at the lingering crowd. I helped him to his feet, though he flinched when I touched arm, but only briefly.

Back on the way to Stark Tower, I repeated my question.

"Never mind. We need to get to wherever we're going," he shrugged off my question.

Slightly miffed, I strode across the busy street and veered left, giving Bucky his first look at Stark Tower. The building was 80 stories tall, all glass windows, with STARK written across the top in bold, white letters that stood out against the dark grey steel lining the windows. We entered the building, which was teeming with people ready to see the receptionist.

"Come on," I said tugging Bucky with me to the desk, maneuvering around many different people carrying odd things. I barely took it all in. My head was spinning from the previous events, and I was just ready for some answers. The receptionist looked incredibly bored as she asked for my appointment.

"Yeah, about that, we don't have an appointment," I said.

"Well, you'll just have to wait in line like the rest of them," she droned, gesturing towards the crowd behind us. I cringed, realizing that, by the time we saw Tony, Bucky may have another episode. And around all those people... Swallowing, I turned back to the desk.

"Oh, that appointment. We have the appointment for," I gazed around until I found the time, "two o'clock," I crooned, my voice becoming soothing and calming. Immediately her eyes glazed over, and she buzzed Tony only to say we were on our way up. Bucky eyed me strangely as we climbed into the elevator.

"What was that about?" he said suspiciously.

"I can be very persuasive," I said shortly. The elevator opened with a loud ding, and I caught my breath. The top 3 floors had been converted to a 3 story super apartment, completed with a science super lab and a kitchen any cook would die for. Balconies hung overhead. I took it all in as I spun in slow circles, Bucky at my side.

"Ah, Mr. Angelo, I'm glad you're here, I have some prototypes for you," called a man's voice from the balcony hanging over our heads. "I know last time wasn't as planned but-" he stopped as he caught a glimpse of us, peeking over the railing. "Well, you're not Mr. Angelo."

"Sorry, sir, Mr. Stark, but this was urgent. Your receptionist, she-"

Tony chuckled and flew from the balcony using his suit. I took a deep breath. "Sorry, I've never been this close to anyone with so much money- influence, I mean." I cursed under my breath. I wasn't usually this nervous around people, being a therapist, but he, like Bucky, seemed to leave me speechless. Tony Stark wasn't as tall as I expected, but well built, and with a crazy gleam in his chocolate brown eyes that marked the look of a mad scientist. I knew because I'd seen that gleam before, and honestly never wanted to see it again since the memories it resurfaced were so terrible... He raised an eyebrow.

"Only joking. Tell me, what brings you here, Miss..."

"Meg Blanchard. And this here is Bucky, Bucky Barnes." Tony's eyes widened. For a moment he didn't say anything.

Finally, he said, "Sorry, it's just that the last time I heard that name, my father was telling about some of the greatest men he knew: Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes."


	3. Chapter 3- Remembering

My head spun faster than ever. This confirmed it. Bucky either really was Bucky Barnes, or he was just a crazy lunatic who happened to look like him. For another tense moment, no one said anything. Then a female's voice cut through the silence.

"Tony, where did you put the schedule for October? Mrs. Eloise insists she has a meeting the 23rd," Pepper Potts stepped out from a corner, holding a phone, and paused when she saw us. "Yeah, I'll have to call you back," she said, ending the call with Mrs. Eloise. "Hi, I'm Pepper Potts, nice to meet you," she said warmly, stretching her hand towards me. I shook it happily, glad there was someone to break the ice.

Pepper was a beautiful young young woman with medium blond hair and a straight toothed grin. She was wearing a pink apron over her blue jean shorts and a red blazer, giving her an odd look of someone who'd dressed without turning the lights on.

"Pepper, I think these guests might be staying for a while. Show them to some rooms. Actually," he added as we started towards the spiral staircase framing the grand chandelier. "Stay here for a moment, Meg."

Nervously, I started back for him. "Yes?"

Tony studied me for a second. "Explain why you're here with him. I knew all about him, just not that name. Steve came blubbering to me about searching for a friend and pulled up this picture," he said, switching on a computer that looked more expensive than my whole apartment building. It spouted a hologram that glimmered blue from the top, and Bucky's face appeared, larger than my torso.

I rubbed my eyes, which hurt from lack of sleep. "He found me. I don't know how or why, but here's what happened." And I explained what had happened that day up until I described meeting the bored young woman in the lobby. "Do you think he might be Bucky Barnes?"

Tony just scratched his goatee. "Hmmm. Why did he come to you?" he asked. I noticed he hadn't answered my question.

"He-well, he mentioned something about losing his memory, and that he needed my help to remember. I don't know, he just came to me..." I trailed off.

"I think he may just need a familiar face. How do you feel about meeting Steve Rogers?"

"Steve Rogers, as in Captain America?"

"The very one."

I pondered that. Bucky was now my patient, whether I liked it or not. I needed to do what was best for him. Would Steve help Bucky-or hurt him? "Let me talk to Bucky first. I need to see what condition he's in." I started after Pepper and Bucky.

The other half of the top floors were converted into 12 identical double jacuzzi suits, each complete with its own master bed and bathroom. They were each decked out with red, grey, and black to match the building's theme. I peeked into about 6 different rooms before coming across Bucky, who happened to be sitting on his bed and watching the city below from his 9 foot window that stretched from ceiling to floor.

I tapped on his door. "Hey, Bucky. Can I talk to you?"

He stood up but didn't turn around. "Look, I just need a chance. I'm a monster. I know I am. I just need you to help me figure out how to stop being one. I need to remember who I am, who made me this way," he pleaded, looking over his shoulder at me. "Please."

I sat on his bed. "I'll help. I promise. But I need you to help me. Remembering one's entire past... Each of us is going to need a ton of patience and we'll have to work hard. But first, I need you to tell me something." I patted the bed beside me. Bucky sulked over and sat wearily on the edge of the bed.

"I know a man. I think he, me, and Tony can help. But he may come as a shock," I said.

Bucky looked at me blankly. "How?"

"Let's just say he's a familiar face."

Just then, Tony walked in. "Hiya. Just checking you all were settling in fine. Oh, Meg, did you want to fetch some clothes from your apartment?"

"Yeah. Sure. Just, please, just get my guitar, and be careful. Be careful, it-it just has sentimental value," I begged.

"Sure," Tony said, and took off.

"Bucky," I said suddenly.

"What?"

"What happened in Times Square?"

He looked me straight in the eye. Once again, I had the eerie feeling this man had seen things no one should see. "When you said the name Stark, I remembered something. I-I used to do things-torture people, kill them, but it wasn't me. I have a feeling it was whoever took my memory. They brainwashed me, forced me to do these things. They called me the Asset. They used this-this..." he stopped, pain welling in his eyes. After taking a shaky breath, he said, "Not right now. I just can't talk about it."

"It's okay, it's fine, listen to me," my voice once again turned soothing and calm, and Bucky's eyes glazed over, just like the receptionist. "Tell me what happened at Times Squares."

His eyes cleared, but he still continued talking. "When I was this asset, I was sent on missions. I was remembering the first one I was ever sent on." He looked me in the eye again. "I was sent to kill someone. He was in a car, and I stood in the middle of the road to get him to swerve, because we were like brothers, me and Howard Stark."


	4. Chapter 4- A Phone Call

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, I was speechless. I couldn't comprehend this. Calm down, I thought. Stop breathing so hard. But my heart continued to beat faster and faster as my thoughts swirled more violently than a hurricane. Bucky had killed Howard Stark? How could that be? But it was possible, wasn't it? Captain America, Bucky's supposed best friend from the 40s, was living proof. Then I remembered what I had come in to tell Bucky. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I tried to say something, anything, but it was as if I'd forgotten how to speak. Bucky broke the silence.

"I know. I know it's terrible. I know that I probably ruined Tony's childhood, and everyone else was affected. I don't need someone else telling me that," he muttered defeatedly.

I gave up trying to speak. My breaths were coming short and hot. My chest was heaving as I gasped for breath. What was wrong with me? Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to get away from this person. He was a cold-blooded killer, capable of murder in the worst possible ways, and he enjoyed it too, I told myself. Then I shook my head and my breath steadied. No, this was a broken, used man who needed my help.

"Calm down. Steady yourself. Listen to me," I said as Bucky's eyes glazed over. He had been slipping in and out of focus, but whether it was him or me I couldn't be sure. I was dizzy and tired, but this was more important.

His eyes cleared again, and he came back into focus.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he stood up and backed away quickly, flattening against the wall.

"No! No, Bucky, come here. I just wanted to tell you who was coming to help us," I said in an exasperated voice. Slowly, he re-joined me on the bed. "I just wanted to tell you who was coming to visit. The man who called you Bucky a month ago, was he strong, blond, looked like the American flag was plastered on his torso?"

Bucky looked surprised. "I-I think so," he said.

"His name is Steve. He's also known as Captain America. And he's looking for you," I told him, watching his face.

Suddenly, another seizure-like trance overtook him, causing him to twist in pain and gasp for breath. He thrashed and silently screamed, squirmed and flung himself everywhere as I rushed to fetch Pepper. By the time she had arrived, his body lay limp in the bed. His breath came in ragged, shaky breaths.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," he shooed Pepper and I away as we rushed to his side.

"Did you remember something else?" I murmured. He glanced at Pepper. "She's good, I promise," I assured him. "What did you remember?"

"I'm not sure. I think it was a memory from my childhood... It was still pretty unclear," he added as I made to ask him another question.

"Potts, I'm home." Tony appeared in the doorway, carrying a suitcase and guitar case. "By the way, you're in room 7, right next door," he added, looking at me.

At his quizzical look, Pepper muttered so only Tony and I could hear, "Not here, later." Tony shrugged and stepped into the next room to drop my things off, Pepper following. I turned around to Bucky.

"Get some rest. When Steve gets here, you'll need all your strength," I advised. He nodded weakly and dropped onto the pillow. I found my suitcase and guitar case on my bed. I signed and unlocked my phone. I needed to let Anita know I was taking Thanksgiving break early.

"Meg? Can you come here?" Pepper's warm voice carried into my room, waking me from my nap I'd taken in the chair in my room. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stepped into the main living area. "Hey, Tony said he's calling Steve and wanted you to be there."

"Thanks," I called over my shoulder as I headed up the balcony. I met Tony there. "How long was I asleep?" I asked.

"Not long, maybe 20 minutes," he said without glancing up from his array of holograms he was studying. He finally broke away long enough to get his phone out. "Well, here goes. Hey, Steve, I was just calling to say I think there's someone here you might want to meet," he spoke into the phone. Almost immediately he pulled it away from his ear. "Says he's on his way here."

"I'll go wake Bucky," I suggested. By now I was nervous. What was going to happen when Bucky saw Steve? Would he go berserk or would he not remember him? I entered Bucky's room quietly. Someone had tugged the covers up to his chin and pulled the curtains together. I watched Bucky sleep. He looked so much younger. My sister used to look like that, I thought. Stop doing that to yourself, I scolded silently. Forget your sister. I shook my head and gently tapped Bucky's shoulder. Before I knew what was happening, Bucky had a hand clamped around my neck. I couldn't breathe. I started to gag. Bucky's eyes were slack and cold. "Bucky..." I wheezed. His eyes widened, became sadder, and he let go of me, backing away again. I fell to the floor, massaging my neck. "Bucky, wha-what did you do that for?" I said hoarsely.

"You startled me." He sounded horrified.

I tried to catch my breath. Bucky was very fast, I thought. Make a mental note. Remember that.

I stood up and attempted to soothe him. "It's fine Bucky, clam down..." I took a shaky breath. "Steve is on his way over. Come here," I said as I started my way over to him. He let me smooth his hair and tug his jacket straight. Then, we heard the buzzer ring and the receptionist's drawling voice filled the apartment. "Mr. Stark, someone's here to see you. Name's... What's your name again?" She asked someone. A male voice accompanied hers. "Steve Rogers."


	5. Chapter 5- Meeting Cap

Everyone in the apartment seemed to hold their breath. Pepper continued her work in the kitchen and Tony never broke his gaze from the computers, but both of their mouths were drawn into thin lines. They seemed to understand that Bucky wasn't exactly stable. The elevator rumbled quietly, and suddenly, it dinged. Bucky and I emerged from his room slowly. The doors slid open with an suspenseful feeling that filled the room.

A man about 6'2" stepped out from the small compartment. He had short cropped blond hair, military style, and the physique of a bodybuilder. His plain white shirt was taut over his muscles, a leather jacket pulled over his arms and simple khakis with combat boots donned his legs and feet. He had startlingly blue eyes, like Bucky, but not so sad. A round shield of red and blue with a star in the center was slung over his back.

"Steve." Tony climbed down from the balcony. Bucky shrank behind me, trying to get a good look at this man without being seen.

"Hey, Tony. Who's this person I just had to see? And where are they?" he asked good-naturedly, but I could see in his face he knew who it was and that he was very near.

Bucky crossed his arms and stepped out from behind me. I couldn't tell what he was feeling, which was odd. I was usually pretty good at guessing other people's emotions and feelings. I poked Bucky in the back to prod him in their direction. He slowly climbed down the spiral staircase with me at his heels. Steve glanced up as we reached the bottom. He seemed to stop for a second. Then his face broke out into a grin.

"Hey, Buck."

Bucky's face looked torn. It was disconcerting to see the two men grapple with their emotions: Bucky unsure whether to be on his guard or ecstatic, Steve switching from concern to happiness in milliseconds. I leaned over to Tony.

"Let's leave them to it," I whispered.

"Right." He seemed slightly perturbed by the men's behavior. We exited into the kitchen silently as to to hear what was happening in the living room. I hushed Tony and put my ear to the door.

"I swear, you know me," Steve's voice carried into the kitchen. Bucky's cold, sad voice filled the empty silence.

"Look, I already told you, I'm familiar with your face, but it's probably because you're everywhere. You're Captain America. The memorial at the museum said I must've been-must've been 95 years old. That's impossible. It also said I died in the line of duty," he finished. That was quite a speech, I thought. He'd been rather quiet in the short hours I'd known him. Was it really just hours ago Bucky had lost control in that dark alley? It felt like days. My thoughts returned to the quiet conversation in the living room.

"-it's really possible? You think I can remember?" Bucky still sounded hopeless.

"With every ounce of my being," Steve replied.

"I think it's time to interrupt," Tony said as he opened the kitchen door. "I've had a brilliant idea. Let's have a party to celebrate Steve's or Bruce's or whoever's birthday is coming up," Tony grinned. "Come on, it'll be fun," he added at the look on Pepper's face.

"Tony, now is not really the best time," she muttered, following Tony into the living room. Steve and Bucky had sat down on the plush couch, but stood as we entered. The silence was broken now only by Bucky's harsh breathing and a few mechanical whirs emerging from the lab.

"Just hear me out," Tony pleaded. "This will be an Avenger Birthday Extravaganza of sorts." Pepper eyed him oddly and raised one eyebrow. Tony sighed.

"Oh, alright, you've got me. Potts, we haven't had a party in months! People will think I've lost it. And we all know how that turns out," he said with a pair of pleading puppy dog eyes. He reminded me of a young child begging for a new toy. Pepper signed reluctantly.

"I suppose we could have one... Only close friends. No press. I'm warning you, Tony." He practically jumped for joy as he grabbed her hands and kissed them softly.

"Fabulous! I've already sent the invitations and everything! Be ready by 6:00," he added as he slipped up into his lab. Pepper shook her head and told us we should get a little more rest as it was already 3:45. I hadn't realized how sleepy I really was until I dragged my feet to my bed. I was vaguely aware of Steve claiming the room to my left while climbing the large staircase. I yawned and pushed my hair that had escaped from my messy bun from my face. I decided to pick out what to wear right before I slept. Tony had surprisingly packed all my favorite and best clothes. I found my best dress I owned - a black mini dress with a sweetheart neckline covered with lace to create a thin, high neckline. I grabbed my black ankle wedges and set them aside before I crashed into my bed. As my face hit the pillow, I was almost instantly asleep, but not before I caught the noise of Bucky snoring next door.

When I woke up, the first thing I did was check my phone to see what time it was. The blue screen read 4:30. I squinted around my room. Someone had drawn the curtains closed and a blanket had been thrown over me. I sat up slowly and groped around for the light switch behind my bed headboard. The light flooded my room instantly, causing me to squint even more. I peeked out of my room. Steve and Tony were downstairs heatedly discussing something. I strained my ears to hear what they were saying as I crept closer.

"-he's not hopeless," Steve cried defiantly. "I'm going to help him."


End file.
